


Lustfully Compromised

by Scruggzi



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Jack being a little shit, POV Phryne Fisher, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-27
Updated: 2019-08-27
Packaged: 2020-09-27 20:17:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20413702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scruggzi/pseuds/Scruggzi
Summary: Phryne has a gala to attend, Jack has other ideas...





	Lustfully Compromised

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to T&Banjo for her mighty beta powers!

The evening had been planned for months. A gala celebration for the birthday of a dear friend… well, alright, maybe not _that_ dear. But Phryne had known Arianna Fairfax since her schooldays and was more than a little curious to see what she had made of herself as an adult. She had been frankly insufferable as a child.

Of course, a woman should dress first and foremost for her own pleasure, but if part of that pleasure included a little hint of petty vengeance against a woman who had always looked down on her for her Collingwood upbringing? It was perhaps a little beneath her, but really that was nobody’s business but her own, and given the guest list the party promised to boast plenty of other charms, despite her Aunt Prudence’s planned attendance.

Phryne smoothed the lines of her lingerie; a lace and satin camisole and tap pants in a deep, dangerous red. She could feel Jack’s eyes on her as he lay in bed, naked, pleasingly rumpled and when she turned around, ostentatiously reading a book.

She had been certain he was watching her.

She allowed herself a brief moment of indulgence, even after more than a year of seeing it, the sight of Jack Robinson at ease, without the armour of propriety he wore in public, still made her heart stutter. His hair was loose, he had spent a rare day off working in the Wardlow garden and had not bothered with pomade. The sun had caught his back a little, and his skin was marked in lines of pink and tan across his shoulders.

Such a beautiful man. He knew it too, the bastard.

He had pleaded off, citing an early shift in the morning which Phryne suspected was nothing but a ruse, he rarely enjoyed these society evenings and tried to avoid them whenever possible. It had never bothered her; she had no need for them to be joined at the hip in order to enjoy herself. In fact, she rather relished their continued independence. It made the time spent together all the sweeter. Besides, whenever he did accompany her, the sight of him in evening wear was usually enough to send them home early - not that she would ever admit as much to him - or on one memorable occasion, have them almost discovered in a storage cupboard by Aunt Prudence’s new and formidable housekeeper.

He looked up, raising an eyebrow as he caught her looking at him.

“I thought you had a pressing social engagement?” he asked, voice bland, eyes sparkling with mischief.

She shook herself slightly, refusing to be lustfully compromised so early in the evening. After all, she had made a commitment, no matter how tempting he looked. Besides, he would still be there when she came home. Perhaps she could wake him up, he would certainly deserve it. She was sure he knew exactly what he was doing when he let that single curl of hair tumble over his forehead like that. It had to be on purpose.

“I do, but I may require your assistance, this gown fastens at the back.” Her voice was light and casual, but Jack was a hard man to fool, and he was smiling faintly as if he could read every dirty thought that crossed her mind.

Well, two could play at that game - and very often did.

Phryne picked up the gown which had been folded carefully over the back of her chair, a rich confection of crimson silk that dipped low between her shoulder blades. It caressed her skin as she pulled it on, sending an exquisite shiver down her spine. It was sure to get an excellent reception, fully deserving of the Fleuri sisters' skill and attention to detail.

She presented her back where the buttons hung open, watching over her shoulder as Jack marked his place with a battered leather bookmark and propped himself up on an elbow; the ocean blue satin sheet slipped slightly, revealing a few more inches of his bare chest. He was smirking at her, clearly aware of how much she was enjoying the view – _damn him_.

He slid his hand up over the curve of her backside, giving it a gentle, affectionate squeeze before slipping the buttons closed one by one, his fingers deft and dextrous. When he reached the place where the satin of her slip gave way to the silk of her skin, he brushed his lips feather light against her spine, making her breath catch.

“You should get a move on. You wouldn’t want to be late.”

The growl in his voice gave the lie to his words and she could feel his hot breath against her skin as he spoke. The man could be an insufferable tease when he wanted to be, but she had no intention of rising to it. She had a prior engagement. _She had promised her Aunt Prudence_.

Phryne glared at him, letting him know she knew exactly what he was up to. Jack merely nodded at her and resumed pretending to read his book. She knew he was pretending because within moments he had licked his finger in order to turn the page. He was a fast reader but not that fast. It was for show, it had to be.

Yes…he was definitely watching her over the top of his book. It might not have been obvious to the untrained eye, but Phryne Fisher was the resident expert when it came to reading Jack Robinson’s more subtle tells. She had been intending to flash her garters at him as she donned her shoes, her legs were a weakness for him she knew, a little tit-for-tat as it were.

Unfortunately, her attention was arrested by the way the satin sheet, which had previously covered most of his chest where he lay against the pillows, was now pooled around his waist. Very low on his waist. Scandalously low, in fact. She could clearly see the trail of dark hair that began at his naval and headed south and the ridges of muscle that pointed like an arrow to where his cock lay, barely obscured by the soft fabric, the deep blue contrasting beautifully with the golden tones of his bare skin. It was one of the reasons she had chosen the colour when she had redecorated, it was always good to co-ordinate and she liked to see Jack in her bed as often as possible.

This display was getting ridiculous and her body’s unequivocal response was frankly embarrassing. She wanted to follow that trail of hair with her tongue, watch as his cheeks flushed with pleasure at the feel of her mouth on him, then take his hands in hers and press them into the pillows as she rode him, slow and deep…she mentally shook herself, put her hands on her hips and scowled. 

“Jack Robinson, this gala has been in my social calendar for over two months.”

“I am well aware of that, Miss Fisher. I arranged my schedule specifically in order to avoid it,” he replied mildly, still pretending he didn’t know exactly what he was doing.

“I have been looking forward to it.” It wasn’t exactly a lie, but even Phryne wondered who she was trying to convince at this point.

“And in that dress, I’m sure you will enjoy dazzling everybody in attendance. I’m almost sorry to miss it.”

He put the book down once again, putting one hand behind his head. The gesture showed off the muscles in his arm and chest to great advantage.

“Not. Fair. Jack.”

He was smirking at her.

“I can’t imagine what you’re talking about.”

The hand that was not behind his head was toying with the sheet, stroking it between his fingers as he relished the texture. She could almost feel those fingers against her skin, savouring the softness of her thighs as they meandered slowly up towards her core.

She tilted her head and raised an eyebrow, not willing to let the lie stand.

“Well,” he smiled, at having been so deftly rumbled, “if you wanted to stay,” he held out a hand which she took, almost without thinking, and pulled her onto the bed, “I’m sure I could make it worth your while.”

She laughed, resigned to her fate, all thoughts of Arianna Fairfax and long overdue social vengeance driven clear out of her mind as she straddled his still covered waist. His hands left the satin of the sheets to concentrate on the silk of her gown, warming her through the costly fabric. She fancied she could feel his sensual appreciation for the soft silk as he caressed her, a far more appreciative audience for her ravishing ensemble than she would have found at any society party. And on the subject of ravishing…

“It is of course possible that I have been struck down by a terrible malady.” She whispered against his lips. “Or perhaps been unavoidably detained by an investigation.”

“Very possible.”

His kisses wandered to the skin of her throat, his hand sliding up to her hair, his lips burning her skin and heating her blood as she flexed her hips against him. He moaned into her neck at the sensation and she could feel him growing hard beneath her, his hands wandering up to cup her breasts through the crimson silk.

“Can you keep this on?”

“Do you like it, Jack?”

“I do. I wouldn’t want to ruin it.”

“I’m sure if we’re- _oh yes_ – careful.”

His hands had found the slit in the skirt and his fingers were tracing little patterns on the flesh of her thighs, dipping inside her tap pants to tease her further. She moved to free the skirt where her legs had trapped it, letting it fan out across Jack’s chest. The colour was actually rather good on him, the deep red contrasting with the blue of his eyes which were glowing softly in the early evening sun. Something to remember the next time she redecorated perhaps – for now she had more pressing concerns.

Without the interference of her gown, she was free to properly appreciate the man between her thighs. She bent down to capture his lips, grinding and writhing against his hardening cock, the thin barrier of satin only increasing the sensory onslaught that his touch always brought.

“These off, now,” he growled, tugging at her knickers in an attempt to free her.

“You’re very impatient for a man who was pretending to peacefully read a book mere minutes ago,” she teased, rolling off with a flourish and slipping the offending garment off and away.

“I suddenly find myself very hungry, Miss Fisher.”

That damned smirk told her without a doubt that this had been his plan all along, but she couldn’t bring herself to resent the skilful way he had bested her at her own game. Not when he coaxed her forward so he could slide beneath the rich fabric of her gown, encouraging her upwards with his hands and his tongue against her thighs.

Normally Phryne liked to watch him as he worked. There was such an unparalleled focus in the way he brought her pleasure, especially with his mouth. As if there was no place in the world he would rather be. As if he felt her pleasure as his own. Tonight though, she found she rather liked the excitement of having his face hidden away under the folds of her dress. The lack of a visual focused her attention on the movement of his lips as he continued to kiss his way slowly up one thigh and down the other.

“You might want to hold on to something,” he warned her.

His confidence in the bedroom had come as a slight surprise, if a welcome one. Before they became lovers, she had delighted in flustering her inspector with the occasional flash of a thigh, or inappropriate hand on his jacket - still did - although these days it was getting harder to do. But from the moment he had first undressed her it had been clear that, whilst he might have been a little out of practice, he was no novice in the bedroom.

He had, had plenty of opportunity over the past year to get back in the game.

Phryne leaned forward to grip the headboard for support, shivering as Jack’s warm hand came to rest on her buttock, guiding her to where his mouth was ready and waiting for her. He must have been more worked up than she had realised because he didn’t attempt to tease. Instead, he buried his tongue inside her as deep as it would go, devouring her as she rode his mouth. His hand at her back held her steady so she could match his rhythm, his low, appreciative moans encouraging her to take everything she needed.

Phryne could hear herself as if from a great distance, the little gasping cries and curses as pure, indolent pleasure – rich and full, heady as wine - rose up in waves to overwhelm her. Stars burst behind her eyes, her thighs trembling with the promise of release; the sensation coalesced into a singular point and then with a sharp flick of Jack’s tongue against her clit, detonated, leaving her gasping wordlessly and gripping the headboard with white knuckles as she relaxed against him.

Jack emerged, slowly, from beneath the crimson silk of her skirt, and even the man’s eyebrows managed to look smug.

“You can probably still make it to your party in time to be fashionably late if you leave now.” He smirked, knowing full well that she would do no such thing.

“And you can come with me and explain to the hostess why we are late. I’m sure Aunt P’s reaction will be highly entertaining,” she responded dryly.

“A fate worse than death to be sure,” he replied, equally deadpan.

His hands were still beneath her skirt, stroking her skin softly; his fingers with their trim nails were slightly calloused, the texture a delightful contrast to the gentleness of his caresses. “Perhaps I can convince you to give me a reprieve? I do have work in the morning.”

“Only because you are the one to organise the shift rota.” She grumbled, but she was smiling as she said it, too relaxed from her climax to really hold it against him.

Jack tilted his head, accepting the reprimand with no guilt whatsoever, he had already admitted as much after all.

“I have to set an example to the men, Miss Fisher. Can’t go swanning off on social engagements at all hours when there’s work to be done.”

Phryne’s glower intensified as the smile she was repressing attempted to fight its way onto her face. Her inspector could be a complete arse when he put his mind to it, and the fact that he felt confident enough in her, in them, and the relationship they had built to do so, meant a lot to her. He was not afraid that they would break over some small slight, did not expect her to run around chasing his insecurities until they became her own. It was worth missing a silly dinner party over. Not that she planned on telling him so, naturally. That would quite spoil the fun.

“In that case you better start convincing me, Jack Robinson. As you say, I could still make the party if I hurry.”

He narrowed his eyes and sucked in his cheeks as he pondered his next move, then extricated himself from the seductive prison of her dress, so he could sit up and bend his head in close to her ear. His hot breath against her skin made her shiver in anticipation as he growled, “on your knees.”

Phryne Fisher was not a woman who took orders from men – even Jack – not unless they happened to coincide with what she planned to do anyway; she considered such orders to be at best, suggestions to be taken under advisement. In this instance, however she was more than happy to acquiesce.

There was something in his control, the sense of power waiting to be unleashed which had fascinated her long before she had taken Jack to her bed. Now they were lovers, she knew full well the delight that was to be found when he let himself go. This did not mean she was about to concede defeat entirely. Despite the weakness in her limbs, still lax and unsteady from her climax, her movements remained fluid and enticing. She swung herself off of Jack’s stomach, letting her soft billowing skirt skim ever so lightly across his erection, licking her lips pointedly as she raked her eyes down his body, now free of the sheet which had previously hidden him from her hungry gaze.

She met his eyes again, matching him smirk for smirk. She could read all of his little tells by now, could see the tensing of his muscles and the flush across his cheeks. He looked if anything more desperate than she was, his hands gripping the sheets with the effort of holding himself back.

Phryne turned around, positioning herself in front of the mirror that stood at the end of the bed. She wanted to watch, to see his face as his control broke and he lost himself in her. It was a beautiful sight, and one she liked to see as often as possible. Meeting his eyes in the mirror, Phryne raised an eyebrow in silent challenge, delighting in the smile that broke out across Jack’s face; It became a deep chuckle when she hiked up the skirt of her gown with a coy wink. She did so love his laugh.

“Ready?” there was a slight plea in the question, the tone just short of begging.

She nodded in reply and received an ironic twitch of his lips in acknowledgement. Apparently, it had finally occurred to him that tonight’s entertainment might not have been _entirely_ his idea.

Any smugness she might have felt at the thought was short lived. The merciless thrust of his cock inside her had her keening again, willing to beg or scream, willing to do anything to feel that gorgeous stretch, that unrelenting pleasure as he pounded into her, giving her everything he had. She watched her own face in the mirror as it contorted in pleasure, her mouth open, gasping his name in time to the rough thrust of his hips, and whilst she loved his sweetness and tender touches, there was a carnal need here, a primal urgency that only a good, hard fuck could satisfy.

He felt it too, she knew it, could see it in the clenching of his jaw and the darkening of his eyes, could hear it in the rasp of his voice as he cursed out her name, all teasing forgotten as he let himself sink into a pleasure he had only allowed himself to find with her. He had told her that once - that with her he could truly lose control - because he knew she wanted it, because he trusted her to know her own needs and to stop him without recrimination if he went too far.

She could tell by the tension around his eyes and the biting of his lip that he was close, she began to beg, a string of strangled pleas for him to take her over the edge with him, although she was never in the slightest doubt that he would. It was a matter of pride for him that she was always left satisfied, and he was nothing if not a man of honour.

He knew what she wanted, although it had shocked him the first time she had asked for it, he had needed time to adjust to new boundaries and the trust she placed in him. Once he had gotten used to the idea though, he had risen to her challenge as readily as he had every other she had ever set him – and with spectacular results.

He met her eyes in the mirror, the slight quirk of his lips a silent question, a request for permission and reassurance from a man who almost always did the right thing…

_Smack!_

The open palm of his hand hit the soft flesh of her buttock in time with his thrusting cock, the combined sensations merging and conspiring to make her scream his name.

_“Yes Jack! Again! Harder!” _

She was so close, the sting of his hand bringing her almost to the edge, ready to tip over.

_Slap!_

She whimpered in need as he pounded into her, her eyes losing focus as she began to crest the wave…

The third time he brought his hand down she didn’t even feel it; the pain obliterated by a climax that left her lax and saturated with bliss. She forced her eyes open in time to see Jack follow her, his eyes squeezed shut, her name on his lips.

So beautiful. Always so beautiful.

His eyes blinked open, sweet, serene and full of a steady and enduring love. She could happily spend the rest of her life watching him look at her like that.

Fingers which had been so steady as they buttoned up her dress, trembled as he attempted to remove it. Careful as they had been, the crimson silk was stained with sweat and smelled of sex – probably not beyond Dot’s ability to repair but certainly enough to make her blush.

Phryne sat up, lifting her arms to help Jack as he pulled the gown over her head, she snuggled down next to him on the bed relishing a connection she had shared with no-one else. They took their time, indulging in soft kisses as they drifted down to earth, light as two feathers twirling around each other on the evening breeze.

“I’m sorry if I made you miss your party.” He whispered.

“Liar.” She chuckled, not believing a word of it, and to sated to give a damn either way.

“Well, not that sorry, but I have total faith in your ability to exact revenge.”

“Oh, I will indeed, Inspector. Just wait until tomorrow morning, I intend to make you unconscionably late for work.”

He smiled the sly smile of a man who did not in fact have a shift until noon – something he was willing to bet Phryne knew full well.

“Cruel but fair. I can’t say I don’t deserve it.”

“In the meantime, I’ll have Mr Butler bring us up a bite of supper, I seem to have worked up quite an appetite.”

The tiny upturn in the corner of his mouth sent a rush of affection through her, for his playfulness, his independence, his refusal to break under her assault the way so many men had. There was a great joy in being so evenly matched and Phryne had never been a sore loser; besides, she was more than confident that the next victory would be hers.


End file.
